Beauty is a frail good.
He who says o'er much I love not is in love.
The vulgar crowd values friends according to their usefulness.
Love fed fat soon turns to boredom.
Devouring Time and envious Age, all things yield to you; and with lingering death you destroy, step by step, with venomed tooth whatever you attack.
Thus I am not able to exist either with you or without you; and I seem not to know my own wishes.